


The Path, It Walks This Way

by raelee514



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, bethyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/pseuds/raelee514
Summary: Beth and Daryl on the run after the prison.  Will start with Inmates and go full on AU once they reach the Funeral Home.  Episode novelizations with original content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song She Waits by Louden Swain. 
> 
> First real Bethyl Fic.

Beth

“We gotta go, Beth, we gotta go,” Daryl says and so she runs.

They run. And run. And run.

Then they stop. 

Fallen in a field looking at an increasingly cloudy sky, and birds flying in circles. Their swirls seem chaotic to her as she stares up at them, her heart pounds painfully in her chest and she keeps seeing her father’s face as the sword came down and struck at him. The blood blooming and she can’t quite reconcile the violence with the serene expression on his face. 

Next to her Daryl is breathing heavily and she knows she’s not alone. But she feels alone because Daddy is gone, and she doesn’t know where Maggie is. What happened to her sister? Did she find Glenn? Did she get on the bus? Where the kids? Where was Judith. 

She inhales sharply and tries not think about the baby. But it pushes down at her, and she inhales sharply again feeling the threat of tears. But she doesn’t cry anymore, she doesn’t cry anymore, because she hates the tears, they’ll overwhelm her and they have no place in this world anymore. 

“Come on,” Daryl says breaking her away from her thoughts. He nudges her arm with his foot before bending down to grab his crossbow. She grabs her diary and wondering how she has that with her of all things. 

“Here,” Daryl tosses her his knife in it’s sheath. She catches it and nods. Her gun is empty, which is just as well, they can more of a liability than a help at times. Too loud, a beacon for walkers. She locks the sheath around her waist, and finds she likes the weight of it — it’s security. 

Daryl’s already walking away. She follows him and focuses on taking one step at a time, focuses on the walking as a way to stop herself from crying.

~ 

It’s hours later. They made a small camp, both of them sitting on their own sides of a small fire. Neither of them try to sleep. It’s been hours she thinks, maybe even a day. Back at the prison she tried to keep track of the days, at least in number. 

30 days without incident… She almost laughs. It was a calm before the storm. First Zach and then the sickness, then the Governor rolls right in and takes her away from her family. Killing one and taking the other. Beth swallows hard on nothing but saliva. 

Maggie. Maggie has to be alive she thinks. Has to be. She has to be. Glenn too. All of them. Rick, Michonne, Carl. _Judith_. she looks across the fire at Daryl. He’s sitting there. He’s just staring, and it’s either into the fire or at nothing at all. It can’t really just be the two of them? Can it? She shakes her head. Others could have gotten away, on foot, too… run like they did, run into the woods until they were away from the mayhem. The death. 

The kids. Someone could’ve gotten them out. Been with them. They weren’t on the bus, so maybe… maybe someone got them out. What if they’re out there? She looks at Daryl again and thinks she’s lucky, she got out with him — he’s strong, he hunts, he… _tracks_. 

“We should do something,” she hears herself say it as if she’s testing the idea out. To see if she is believes in it. “We should do something,” she says it louder, believing.

It takes longer than it would if it was anyone but him, but Daryl’s eyes shift from the fire to her and she feels bolder. 

“We aren’t the only survivors, we can’t be. Rick, Michonne they could be out there. Maggie and Glenn could have made it out of A Block. They could’ve…” she stands up feeling more certain. “You’re a tracker. You can track.” 

Daryl’s eyes go back to the fire.

“Come on,” she snaps. They can’t just sit where they are, others could be out there, her sister, Rick, the kids…. If they don’t do something now. “The sun will be up soon, if we head out now we can…” 

She waits for something from him and wants to shout when Daryl remains silent. But she’s decided. She’s not going to stop. She knows they have to do this, that it’s important. They can find others still out there alive. Because they can’t be the only ones. 

“Fine, if you won’t track. I will.” She grabs Daryl’s knife and stalks out of the camp. 

She needs to do this she thinks as she walks into the darkness of the woods and after a minute she feels Daryl behind her more than she hears him. Because he barely makes a sound when he walks. He’s part of the woods around him and it reminds her that she doesn’t know how to track. But can it really be that hard? He’s giving her no choice but to do it herself.

The sun is slowly rising and she focuses on the land in front of her feet, looking for anything that seems human, that shows that people walked on the earth in front of her and not just animals and monsters. 

Time passes and she isn’t sure, they’ve probably walked well past an hour, but she’s not going to stop. She needs to do this, she has to look because if you don’t look how can find anything? They have to do something, this is a job to do, she thinks. An important one. 

Daryl is to her right, walking along and she sees him slow down and bend down. She walks over to see him blowing leaves away from footprints. Human tracks and she feels a swell of hope in her chest as she looks down at them. They’re small and her heart clenches a bit, the children. 

“Could be Luke’s, or Molly’s,” she says and she hears the hope in her voice. “Whoever they are, it means they’re alive.” She and Daryl aren’t alone. 

“No. It means they means they were alive four or five hours ago.” 

It’s the first sentence he’s said since they ran from the prison and it pisses her off. “They’re alive,” she spits out and walks away. 

She can see the footprints now for herself and she follows them. They are alive she thinks, alive and breathing. It’s on repeat in her brain and she keeps walking because there are footsteps to follow. And her heart stops slamming against her chest, it’s easier to breathe now. 

The grape bushes rise her spirits more. They found food, whoever they are and that’s a good thing. But then Daryl’s pointing out smashed grapes on the ground. 

“They picked up the pace here. Got out in a hurry. Things went bad.”

No, she won’t think like that. “Wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith.”

“Yeah, faith. Faith ain’t done shit for us. Sure as hell did nothing for your father.” 

Beth hates him in that moment as she flashes to her father’s death, as her fears for Maggie rise in the face of that. She hates the sadness threatening her but she can’t yell at him because she might cry if she does and she won’t cry. She doesn’t cry anymore. They’re doing something good and right here. Why can’t he see that, why did he say that? To hurt her? 

She glares at him, he’s not even looking at her first but she glares at him. And he turns. He looks contrite right away but it’s not enough of an apology and the hurt is still threatening the hope she has built up. So she glares, pushing all of it out at her and at him. Because she has a job to do, she’s going to find Luke, Molly, or some other survivor, other people who are still breathing. 

But after a beat or two she can’t even look at him, so she starts picking grapes, putting her anger at Daryl into the action. They dropped their grapes she thinks. “They’ll be hungry when we find them.” 

Soon she feels pressure on her arm, gentle and light. She turns enough to see it’s Daryl, offering her one of his bandanas to put the grapes in. She knows it’s more than that. It’s a silent apology, because why would he ever voice one. 

She’s angry but she knows he means it so she accepts the apology and wraps the grapes up in the cloth. She notices him walking off, following the trail. He is tracking, she thinks, he’s been doing it for her. Even though she’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to, that she has forced him into this. She supposes that’s something but she can’t quite feel thankful for it. Probably because she knows she’s given little choice. She follows him, forcing herself to focus on her task again, finding other survivors. 

“That ain’t walker blood,” Daryl says after touching some leaves. 

She looks at the dead walkers on the ground, but she also sees footprints. “The trail keeps going, they fought them off.”

“No. Got Walker tracks all up and down here. At least a dozen of them.”

She wants to yell at him, she wants to shout but she doesn’t, deciding it’s not worth it. He’ll see, he’ll see when they find them. Then she hears a twig snap and immediately she pulls out Daryl’s knife and tenses. She stands in place, looking around, hoping it was nothing more than a squirrel. Listening for the sound of one, and she hears snarling, turns tying to pinpoint where until the walkers tells her by grabbing her from behind. Beth fights, twists and tries to get into a position to fight it but she can’t and she loses her grip on the knife and it falls to the ground. 

Daryl can’t get a shot, so he rushes forward, going for his knife for a second not remembering she has it… he recovers and grabs at the walker, pulling at it away from her and she’s finally able to twist out of it’s hold. She and Daryl share a quick look, she knows what he wants her to do. She grabs the knife off the ground and Daryl rolls himself underneath the walker, holding him ready for her to plunge the knife into its head. 

She hates the sound it makes, the sound of rotted flesh and bone. She hates she recognizes this man from the prison, even if she doesn’t know his name, or who he was, he was part of her home. He was part of the life that was destroyed in the blink of an eye. He became a monster and now he is dead and it cuts into her heart. 

Daryl thanks her with a nod after getting out from under the corpse. And she briefly wonders why but he distracts her by saying, “Come on.” Then he’s leading her again, following the footprints and she follows without thought. It doesn’t matter this one man lost his battle. Others are still out there, they will still find someone alive. 

They find train tracks. At first she thinks it’s a good thing, it feels like progress. They found something manmade, something maybe people would follow. Hope swells bright inside her in that moment. Only to come crashing down around her in the next instant. She steps further out of the woods and hears the snarls and the gross squelching sound that is the dead eating the living. Three walkers are bent over remains, fresh blood is thick in the air, copper, the worst smell in this new world.

Daryl kills them and she walks closer and closer. Each step her heart hammers hard in her chest. It is hurting again, with each pulse. It aches and it’s laughing at her for thinking she’d find survivers. She stares down a shoe, a kids shoe, Luke’s she thinks and it’s all gone. All her hope. He’s dead, he’s gone. In the worst way one can imagine. 

She can’t shove it down anymore. She stares at that shoe because she can’t look at what remains. She tries, she tries to inhale sharply and keep the tears at bay. Tries to stop her body from convulsing but it won’t listen the tears sting her eyes like needles and her body shakes against her will. 

And she’s bawling. She’s crying harder than she has since she saw her mother walk out of the barn. She hates it. She hates crying. She isn’t supposed to cry anymore but she can’t stop herself now.

It feels endless, it won’t stop, the pain, the horror of what they found. What her quest turned into to. She isn’t sure if the tears are for the kids, for her mother, for her father, Maggie or for herself. Or for something else she has no definition for. 

Beth cries and cries. She can barely breathe. She cries until she doesn’t. 

At some point she finds herself on the ground, making another fire. She’s exhausted, hollowed out. Her face is wet and she tears out a blank page of her diary to throw into it a fire. There will be no words for that page, no stupid dreams, no nonsense thoughts from a teenager, because that no longer fits into this world. 

Beth closes her eyes and tells herself she is stupid. Yet she hears her father’s voice, somewhere in the back of her mind… _If you don’t have hope what’s the point of living?_ She doesn’t have an answer, is pretty sure she doesn’t want an answer, is afraid of the answer she might hear. Yet the question lingers, until she decides to sleep in hopes of finding silence.

Daryl

He watches Beth sleep. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long drag on it and lets the smoke burn his lungs. Feels it and shifts his gaze to the flames in order to stare at nothing at all.

The last twenty-four hours felt like the longest day of his life. The most painful day in his life. Worse than when the world went to shit, worse than when he found Merle snarling after being killed by the Governor. 

One eyed bastard took more from him. Took everything. He had something, he had something. Now he’s back to nothing. No safe fences. No Rick. No Carol — though that’s a different pain, a different hurt and he isn’t sure what to do and he doesn’t have the time to think on it. 

But he has Beth. Beth. He blows smoke out of his mouth and glances at the blonde again. She’s out cold and he guesses that’s good. Neither of them slept after their run from their home and she cried an ocean for the better part of the day. Tired herself out he supposes, he wonders what its like to be able to do that… 

Let it out. Though he thinks she was trying to hold it in. _I don’t cry anymore, Daryl_ , he hears it again plain as day. He thought it strange and he thought it brave at the time. He wonders if it was now, or healthy. But what would he know about that? 

She’s all he has left and he doesn’t know what the hell do with her. She’s not like her sister but she is like her father. And that hurts, Daryl shifts back to the fire, focuses again on the cigarette in his hands. He let Herschel down, he let Herschel die. He let them all down. Michonne was right and he was wrong. 

He can’t undo it and now he’s alone. Alone with a last chance to not let Herschel Greene down. But how does he deal with this girl, with her… He hurt her today, just as much as she hurt herself. He can’t forget her face, her eyes, when he made the crack about Herschel’s faith. She looked right at him and it was as hard as slap, she was mad, she was already mad but that was more, that was different. 

She didn’t breakdown, though, not then but he thinks it was close. But she kept digging in, she kept digging in that they were going to find others, find survivors. He’s never seen seen a hope be dashed right before his eyes before. And he’d let her cry, he let her stand there alone and fall into pieces.

He has nothing to give her, to show her, he has no way to bring her peace. Because everyone is gone, all of them, they’re alone and he knows it. He remembers seeing her and Herschel, laughing and talking. Herschel looking at her like she was the sun. Daryl watched them, the Greene’s, all of them. Watched them being a family, all the that love, all that brightness and smiles. Herschel would beam at Beth and request a song. And she would sing and it felt like there was actual good in the world. 

But there wasn’t, there isn’t and Daryl let himself be fooled, he let himself believe in things that never were. Not even before. He forces himself not to look at the sleeping girl as he wonders if she learned that there is no reason left to sing.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Daryl

They usually kept to the woods, it was saver in a way. Giving cover. But they had to make runs, they had scavenge — or try too. He steps out of the woods towards a road. 

Beth is behind him. She is quiet. Has been since the railroad tracks. Since they found nothing but death. He doesn’t mind it, he tells himself. What is the use of conversation or spouting out a belief that is nothing but fantasy. 

Everyone is gone. 

It isn’t long before they come across the convenience store he remembers passing on his motorcycle while on a search for the Governor with Michonne. He pushes that memory away. He knew it was here, that’s all the matters, not the how. Not the how. 

“Come on,” he says and cocks his head towards the store. He sees cars in the parking lot and points to one. “Check them out.”

Beth nods and walks toward the car. He watches her for a beat before going towards the store itself. He pounds on the glass doors and waits to see if any walkers will react to the sound. 

Two amble up towards the door, he stares at them through the glass and waits to see if they’re all that going to come. He hits the glass again, making the door trying to push through the glass snarl at him and move with more purpose. 

“All dead,” Beth says behind him. 

He turns and nods, cocks his head at the two walkers. 

She draws his knife and he steps back pulling up his crossbow. Beth moves forward, hand on the handle of the door. Daryl readies to shoot and nods. Beth pulls the door open and Daryl shoots the first one and steps back. The second stumbles further out and Beth kicks it from behind to the ground and stabs the knife into its head. 

He’s reminded of the winter after the farm was overrun. He remembers her fighting with them whenever they ran into a pack of walkers. He remembers her on fence duty, shoving rebar into walker’s eyes. She is someone he has to protect but at least she can wield a knife. 

“Keep on guard,” he says as he walks into the store.

She says nothing but he hears her steps behind him.

He goes towards the cash register and frowns to find it open. He checks the drawer though, pulling things out, hoping maybe to find a gun. But nothing. He starts looking through the shelves below it, just in case. But the only things of worth are a few packs of cigarettes and cheap lighters. 

He finds a plastic bag and shoves the stuff into it. Straightening up he looks around the store and see’s Beth’s blonde head in one of the aisles. He glances around and sees a door to a back room. 

He checks if it’s locked and its not, he pounds on it first and puts his ear to the wood. Listening, waiting, checking. Beth appears carrying some bags of something. She walks up and just takes the bag he has and shoves them inside of it. He sees it’s trail mix of some sort and tells himself it’s better than nothing. 

“No water, not any soda either,” she says. 

“Been pretty ransacked,” he says, then he cocks his head.

She steps back and he opens the door. Both of them tensed in case of a walker but there is nothing. He motions for her to go in first, so she steps through the door and he’s right behind her. 

It’s not much of a backroom. A desk, strewn with papers and a worthless computer. He opens the draws and Beth goes to check for inventory and he hears her sigh and figures that the shelves have already been picked over. 

“Founds some protein bars, it’s something,” she says with an odd smile as she puts the bars into the bag. 

Daryl nods and looks around. It’s all they’re getting here. “Come on,” he mutters and walks out of the store, she walks behind him and he crosses the street and walks back into the woods. 

“We’ll make camp. I’ll hunt.”

Beth’s only answer is to keep following him.

~

Later they’re both holding squirrel over the low fire. He’s staring into the fire, not seeing it, keeping his mind blank. Or trying too, whenever it starts to wander he brings it back to fire. All that mattes is the squirrel. Eating. Staying alert. Keeping alive.

Though he’s no sure why.

“They could be…” Beth mumbles.

He pretends he didn’t hear her.

“Maggie, Glenn. Could be at a fire too,” she says. 

He ignores her. 

“They must be, I know they are. Maggie’s tough.”

Maggie is tough, Daryl thinks and then he shoves it down because it doesn’t matter. It all stopped mattering the minute that tank rolled in. 

“We’ll find them,” Beth says. 

He thinks he’s not going to start tracking for her again, it’ll just end up in more tears. 

“Are you listening?” 

“Ain’t anything to listen too,” he says and he believes it. He hopes she’ll go quiet again.

She huffs but doesn’t say another word.

Beth

“Maybe we could go back to…” she starts to say but she stops herself. It sounded better in her head. She knows nothing but the dead would be at the prison. She knows it and she doesn’t want to see it.

But she knows their family, some of them at least, some of them have to still be out there. The odds are in favor of it, she doesn’t care how cruel the worlds become, there is no way none of them made it out alive. She’s still here, Daryl is, they are. 

“We aren’t the only ones,” she says out loud. 

Daryl keeps walking ahead of her. 

She doesn’t know if she said any of it loud enough for him to hear. She knows it doesn’t matter if she did, she could have shouted it and he stay quiet, stay stoic and not give a damn. He wants to think the worst, she wonders if that’s easier? She doesn’t see how how it could be. It hurts her heart to too much to try to tell herself there is no hope.

She hates there is a voice in her head that is trying to tell her that, she hates how it sounds like Maggie. Sounds like she did when she was trying to tell Beth not to get her hopes up about Daddy when he got bit and lost his shin and foot. 

“She was wrong,” Beth reminds herself. Maggie was wrong and Daddy was fine. There is always hope, Beth tells herself and she feels it, she feels it under her skin. 

Daryl stops walking and Beth walks into him it’s so sudden. He holds a hand up and she holds her breath and listens. She hears it then, the snarling, she hears leaves rustle and twigs snap. They both swivel to their left and see them. They’re yards away but still too close and there are too many. 

“Run,” Daryl says and he turns to their right. She takes off following him, thinking that it’s already getting dark. She hears them behind them though, they saw them, heard them, smelled them. They’re the prey and the Walkers the hunters. 

They run, she doesn’t know how long, they end up on a road and she realizes it’s dark out, it’s night but there is a car and they are few minutes ahead of the heard. Daryl cocks his head to the car and pulls up his crossbow. She slips into the drivers seat and finds the key and tries it. It clicks but nothing else. 

Thunder booms and scares her. The snarls start to sound on the air and Daryl cocks his head at her. “Come on,” he mutters and goes towards the trunk of the car. They climb in, Daryl pulls down the door but uses his red bandana to keep it shut but allow them to get out. He settles in and holds up his crossbow at the small slit and she pulls out his knife. 

Thunder booms again and the rain starts, but she can barely hear it over the snarling as walkers stumble out of the woods and surround the car. A herd of them, too many of them and the thunder keeps booming, probably calling more and more of them. 

She shifts and grips the knife tighter, it’s hot and cramped and she thinks she’s grateful she’s not claustrophobic. But she is afraid, she’s afraid and she’s alert and awake. She grips the knife and watches Daryl holding the crossbow at the ready. It’s uncomfortable, it’s all wrong but somehow she feels safe. 

She hopes Maggie is too, she hopes that others are too.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl

The night in the trunk has him sore and tired. He feels trapped long after they climb from the car. Beth’s silence is loud and it’s starting to get on his nerves, he can feel her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. He isn’t sure what the hell the girl expects from him. To tell her everything is going to fine, it’ll work out, stupid platitudes and lies? 

He won’t lie to the girl just cause she looks like she wants to hear it. 

He takes them off the road and back into the woods, the cover of trees and dirt. He feels a bit more like himself. He picks a spot to camp. Tells her to start the fire, set up the noise trap for walkers then without another word he heads out to hunt them up some meat. 

He doesn’t get out far before he tracks a squirrel. It’s just as well, he needs a break from her eyes on him and her huffs of breathe. But he can’t go far, he can’t do that. Won’t leave her behind, or unprotected. They need each other despite all the crap. He feels Herschel’s eyes on him then and realizes the girls gaze is like her father’s. Watchful, full of thought and it makes him feel tight in his own skin. He shakes himself a bit and pushes thoughts of Herschel away. 

He can’t think on that. 

He can’t. 

He focuses on the squirrel, he moment to moment of a hunt. Breathe, steps, reaching out with his senses. In the moment and nowhere else. Just him, the woods, a squirrel and his bow. 

That is until his bow misses he mark and hits only tree. He walks towards the tree his temper in the way he stalks and he yanks out the arrow. It’s warped he thinks and he looks at the bend and it takes no pressure to make it snap. 

Fuck. He glances at the crossbow and thinks he gotta make very arrow sent count. He thinks about the crappy protein bars Beth found and shakes his head. “No way,” he mumbles and sets about looking for the squirrel again.

He’s fifteen minutes in and getting to far away from the camp. He starts thinking about turning back and just caving in to eating the crap found at that gas station. When he hears a rattle, within seconds he’s spotted a snake and he grins. Snake is good. Real good. 

Quickly he finds a branch suitable for hunting one and is thankful he grabbed his knife to bring with him. He has a small worry about Beth back at the camp without a weapon, but things seem clear. He pushes it away, he’ll find her her own damn knife, but right now he’s got a snake to catch. 

It doesn’t take long for him to catch and kill the snake. He starts skinning it where he stands. Feels like he’s being watched as he works and turns and there she is, standing behind him. He wonders briefly how she found him but he doesn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. She did. 

“Get the fire going?” he says as he turns to walk back, continuing skinning the snake as he does. 

“A mud snake?”

“What you want a pizza,” he snaps and brushes past her. 

He feels her eyes on his back and wishes the girl didn’t stare so loud.

Beth

Her legs shook when she got out of the trunk. She felt achey and sweaty and she finds herself wondering if there is a word that means something past exhaustion. But she goes about gathering things, things they could use, things that are useful.

Daryl’s grabbing hubcaps and ropes. She grabs a windshield mirror and shard of glass and tries not think about that day in her bathroom. But it flies in and out of her mind anyway. Her scar itches for a few minutes after that but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead she follows Daryl, who gives her a look before turning away and starting down the road. She knows they won’t stay on the road long though, they never do. He likes the woods, he is the woods she thinks. She thinks he would fine wandering the woods of the Georgia until he dies. 

She isn’t sure that that life plan is for her though. She’s nothing like Daryl Dixon. She can’t hide under dirt and leaves. She can’t feel nothing like he can, just shut it down and away. Beth stares at him, between his shoulder blades and wonders how he can, how he can do that… Did he ever care at all? She can’t stop caring, she can’t stop worrying and she has to hope, she has hope she isn’t the only one wishing to find her family. 

They walk the woods for an hour, two, less, she doesn’t know. She guesses she could use the sun to know but she doesn’t care too. Then she’d be counting the seconds and it’d feel even longer. All the days feel long enough now as they are. And all the days are blending together because they do nothing but the same thing day in and day out. 

It’s not living she thinks. 

Daryl stops walking so she does. He grunts at her about a fire, throws her the hubcaps and rope and grunts again about making the noise alert. Then he grabs his knife off of her and walks off into the woods. She watches him go until he vanishes. She knows he won’t go far and she gets he needs to hunt. But part of her worries he’ll go too far away, or maybe disappear. 

She knows it irrational. She tells herself at least when he’s gone she doesn’t have to watch his vacant stare as he stares into the fire. At nothing. She doesn’t understand. 

Beth gets on her knees and starts to dig with her hands. Mind going to the winter before the prison, she did with Lori and Carol. They took turns, they did it together. Digging a deep enough hole, so the fire wouldn’t attract walkers as it got darker. Lori showed her how to use a mirror and glass with the sun. They were out of matches, the lighters Daryl got the gas station ended up being useless. She misses Lori, she’d been like a mom to her. Not her own mom, but a mom anyway. It’d been nice. 

She closes her eyes as she thinks of Judith. She bits her lip and reminds herself that she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t cry and she focuses on the task, on the fire. She lets her mind go to Carol. Carol wasn’t at the prison, she doesn’t think. She was somewhere else. Has she gone back and did she find remains of what was their home? Daryl must miss her the most, Beth thinks. But she’s out there. Like Maggie. Glenn. The others. 

Judith. Judith is out there and alive and being cared for. 

Right? 

The fire glows as she breathes on it and she nods. It’s nice, she thinks, getting something done. Having your job and doing it well. She stands up and focuses on the hubcaps, the string, and their walker alarm systems. When she’s done there she just stands around for a little bit, goes to some water to drink. As he brings the bottle up to her mouth she pauses, seeing a ladybug on a leaf. 

She bends down to watch it, unconsciously her hand reaches out and it walks onto her finger. She looks at the small insect and how dainty and pretty and nice it is. She is really smiling and when that hits her, she smiles more. There are good things, she reminds herself as it flies away. 

Daryl’s not back yet and that worried voice nags at her and she pushes it away, but she finds herself stepping in the direction he went. Careful to pay attention to where she’s been, thinking a few times she did see his footprints. She isn’t sure why she is seeking him out. He annoys her more than anything with his silence and his snarls. But she doesn’t want to be alone either. She just doesn’t. 

She’s out of something to do. A job. She’s done what she was told. So now she’s looking for him. When she finds him, she sees him skinning a snake and it irritates her for some reason she can’t express. 

He grunts at her about if the fire is going. 

“A mud snake?” 

He brushes by her, snapping about ordering pizza and maybe she deserves that but she doesn’t care. She glares at his back as they walk back to the suck ass camp she built while he hunted down a damn snake.

~

He has no table manners she thinks, not they have a table. It’s never bothered her before, though she’s certainly noticed it before. It’s bothering her now though and she doesn’t even know why. He’s just sitting there, grossly munching on mud snake and acting like nothing is wrong, that nothing happened. Acting like they just decided to sit in the woods to sit in the woods.

Beth sighs, slowly picks at her snake. This isn’t what she is supposed to be doing. She wants the prison back, she wants that life back. It was good, it wasn’t before but it was good. She even had Zach for a bit, it was like maybe she did go away to college and met a boy. 

It’s so stupid she thinks. College, a boy. At college her boyfriend wouldn’t die because he went to a Big Stop. No he’d come back with junk food and alcohol. She takes a bite of the snake and thinks of her father then. He never told her not to drink, but he told stories about why he couldn’t, why wouldn’t and how it was about loving her, loving Maggie. How he loved their mothers. 

Her friends drank, snuck their parents alcohol and all she did was watch, she never did anything. She was the good girl, the good daughter. Maggie was the wild one, the one who rebelled and did things she wasn’t supposed to do. Causing shouting matches and tears. That wasn’t her, she was the good one. 

She thought, she thought when she was older she could do things that maybe her Daddy wouldn’t like, she thought that. Thought about college, thought about singing in Nashville. Thought they could live at the prison for the rest of their lives… 

It was stupid. She was stupid. Her scar starts to itch again and she looks at it. She remembers cutting herself, the pinch of pain, the flow of red blood, the horror she felt at doing that, at doing that to herself. She didn’t want to die. She decided to live. 

She looks at Daryl, he’s got another section of the snake, grossing chomping down. The fire, the camp, it’s stupid and it’s not living. She needs to do something, something that’s living. Something she might have done before, might have done before when Daddy wasn’t watching. Thinks of her friends, thinks of Maggie and thinks about her stupid college dreams.

“I need a drink.” She decides. 

Daryl throws a bottle at her. 

“No. I mean a real drink. As in alcohol. I’ve never had one, cause of my Dad… but he’s not exactly around anymore…” it feels like dust in her mouth those words, she quickly tries to distance herself from it because she doesn’t cry anymore. And she has a mission. She’s going to DO something. “I thought we could go find some…” 

Daryl just eats, has just been eating. She lets things hang there as he chews. Waits, she knows he heard her, but he acts like he doesn’t. She stares, she stares harder and then she decides she’s not waiting. 

“Okaay….well, enjoy your snake jerky.” Beth gets up, grabs his knife and walks off into the woods. She’s going to find a drink. She going to do something besides watch Daryl Dixon do nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl

The snake is good. So he digs in and focuses on the taste, the texture, the chewing. Satisfying his hunger. It’s simple and easy. He’s got his mind on the food and not anywhere else. It ain’t places it don’t need to be at. Until she starts talking.

He’s not really listening, not until she mentions her father. Something tightens in his gut at that, then he feels a surge of anger. But he taps it down and keeps eating. But she’s talking and he catches something about her wanting to get a drink. She think they can just go hit the corner bar? 

“Well, enjoy your snake jerky.” He hears her feet, the snick sound his knife makes as she pulls it out of the log. That’s all too familiar, that’s what happened when she got it in her head to track. He realizes she’s gone, in the woods, and he sighs and puts down his snake. 

He ain’t traipsing around to get the girl a drink. A drink, what is she even thinking? Frivolous whim that makes no sense. He curses under his breath and grabs his crossbow. Beth’s out of sight but she’s leaving an obvious trail, he can practically see her stomping along in damn cowboy boots, being loud and isn’t that just adding to the stupid. 

He spots her, hiding behind a tree, he sees the group of walkers staggering toward her. Picks up his pace slightly, eyes on her, she’s got out his knife and she’s tossing a rock. Smart. At least she hasn’t gone totally stupid. 

She’s shaking, he doesn’t need to be close to her to see that. She’s afraid, like she should be. Good he thinks and he walks up towards her, his foot hits a twig and it snaps. Beth jumps and turns and he thinks she looks relieved to see him. He nods at her and turns back around, walking back toward the camp.

He thinks it’s over. She went out, she saw the walkers, she realized she’s acting stupid. Beth ain’t stupid, she’s already shown him that since the prison… Before that, he’s seen it. He takes a breath, trying to push away the irritation. She’s just addled because everything went to shit. 

“I think we made it a way. I think we need to go that way to find the booze.” He steps over their makeshift alarm as she speaks, she’s right behind him so she walks right into it, making the metal clang. 

“What the hell, you brought me back? I’m not staying in this suck-ass camp.” She holds up her hand, flipping him the bird. 

His irritation spikes, he moves forward and grabs her hand. “Hey, you had your fun.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel anything? Yeah, you think everything’s screwed. I guess that’s a feeling. So you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that! We might as well do something. I can take care of myself and I’m gonna get a damn drink.”

She’s talking just to hear herself, doesn’t stop for him to answer any of her damn questions, not that he would, then when she’s done yelling she’s off again. Stalking away with annoying speed. And he has no choice but to follow her as she goes off for a damn drink. Maybe she can take care of herself, he doesn’t know if that’s true or not. Probably not with how stupid she’s acting. He resigns himself to following her, not having control over what the hell he does for the day. It makes an uneasy deja vu fall on his shoulders, but he rolls them and pushes the thought away. 

“Is kind of suck-ass,” he does mutter though with one last glance at their camp.

~

~

“Golfer’s like to booze it up, right?”

He doesn’t answer her, doesn’t even know the answer. What the hell he know about golfing and country clubs. He looks back at the walkers further up the field but close enough to scent them. She does too but she shrugs it off and heads toward the building, saying something about people maybe being inside. 

Dead people is what he thinks.

Front door is locked tight, so the find another which opens easy. He goes in first, but no walkers are in sight. “Come on,” he mumbles as he walks in, taking in the scene. It’s gruesome and pathetic. Seems a bunch of people decided to hold up at the Country Club and then opt themselves out. 

Several walkers are hanging from the ceiling, snarling at him and Beth, having no way to sate their hunger. He figures anyone who decided to die that way, never would have they’d known their reanimated corpse was going to be stuck swaying forever. 

He finds a flashlight among the corpses on the floor. There here on the girls dumb quest but he may as well sweep stuff that might be of use. Find things. He looks around the damn place and thinks what a waste. Bunch of rich people probably were boozing it up, having a grand time just doing nothing, not doing a thing and then when the world falls apart the first thing they all do is end it. 

It grates on his nerves, he’s pissed and he looks at her. Beth. She tried to end it once he remembers. He remembers Andrea and Lori sniping at each other over it, and Andrea going on about the girl chose to live. Live. Yeah, finding booze because she wants to do something. Stupid. 

He bends down, spotting a good backpack, sturdy, durable. It’s contents are half spilled out. It’s money and jewelry, it’s stupid rich crap that doesn’t mean shit anymore. But just like that Merle’s in his head. _Look at shit, that there would’ve been worth a pretty penny, Little Brother. All these rich assholes, making sure to bring gold to the end of the world._

“Why are you keeping that stuff?” 

Her question makes him realize he’s shoving it all into the backpack but follows through, he knows it’s stupid but Merle’s laughing in his head. The outside door starts to rattle, the door is all glass, the golf club he used to lock the doors isn’t going to keep them out. “Come on,” he mutters again, slinging the bag over his shoulder. They run through a set of large black wood doors and he grabs onto them, there heavy and he slams them shut. 

He notices she found a flashlight too and nods at it, or her, he doesn’t know. They’re in some kind of hall. It’s got awards and crap on the walls, pictures of smug rich men’s faces. He wants to punch them. 

“Hey,” Beth says. 

He keeps walking.

“Knives,” she says and he turns. Seeing her stopped at some kind of glass cases. He walks over and shakes his head. Of course they just have a bunch of hunting knifes on display in the middle of a hallway. Rich people. 

“Think their sharp?” Beth asks. 

“Might be, yeah,” he mutters. He’ll give it too her, smart question. “Stand back.”

He smashes the glass once she’s stepped back. They both freeze after, looking down the hallway her left to right, him right to left. Another beat but nothing comes snarling after them. 

He puts the flashlight beam on the case and Beth is back and she picks up a knife that’s it’s a light tan leather sheath. It’s a good size for her, better than his big hunting knife. She pulls the knife out and Daryl thinks it’s pretty, fancy, pearl or something with silver. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not too heavy,” Beth is testing it’s weight, holding it right, she doesn’t seem to be even looking at it as anything but a blade. Ain’t totally lost her mind. “How do I test the edge?”

“You don’t,” he yanks it from her hand. It is a good weight for her, her thinks, she’s right. He turns around, sees a wall about five feet away from them and throws the knife at it. It embeds right in the wall. 

“Nice shot.”

“Hmmph. It’s sharp.” He pulls it out and hands it to her. 

She takes it, puts into the sheath it came with and then takes off the sheath he gave her. He takes his knife back, putting it on and feeling a lot more comfortable again. Felt wrong with it off, but the girl needed a weapon. Once finished he looks up and she’s looking at him. Wide blue eyes, staring in that way she does and he glares back. 

Her eyes narrow a bit and she shrugs. “Thanks.” 

“For what? You still want that drink?”

She nods and turns around, he sees the small shaft of light from her flashlight in front of her as she walks. “I need it,” she says. 

Daryl rolls his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl 

They end up in some sort of kitchen, galley, whatever type of rooms. He starts rummaging through things, anything they can carry, anything they put water in. Keeping his eyes peeled for anything at all useful. Place is full of junk, doesn’t look like it’s be scavenged before. Not that he’s really seeing much to take. He sees empty wine bottles that were used as candle holders. The candles burned down to nothing but wax. Girl might find herself a damn drink in here, he thinks. Then they go back to being sane, or whatever…

Or was it a matter of time before she made him go on something other goose chase, some other spoiled girl whim. 

He hears rattling, tenses and turns, holding up the flashlight, turning on his ears. Nothing follows it, he hears no snarling. He goes back to his rummaging, hoping she found herself a drink already, get that over with, he thinks. He doesn’t want o be here. The prison flashes in his mind, the fences, the gardens, Rick farming like it was born to it and Beth carrying Judith on her hip singing the Ramones. 

He shakes it all way, the home of it all. He snorts, he knew, he knew he had no right to think he was home, had a home. He never had home, he had Merle and nothing else. But the images won’t vanish, even the cell he’d made his own — despite a piece of him always feeling trapped within it. He remembers searching for the Governor with Michonne and wanting to get back to the prison.

He was a fool in more ways than one he thinks and an anger starts to surge up and he pushes it away and picks up a metal pot, frowning at its size. He hears glass smashing and jumps. Then he hears it, snarling, shuffling and Beth making noises of exertion. 

“Shit,” he takes off towards the noise, rushing forward, flies through some plastic covering a doorway and finds Beth pulling her knife out a walker’s skull. The walker drops and Beth greats him with a glare.

“Thanks for the help,” she says all sarcasm and derision.

“Said you could take care of yourself. You did.” He turns around walking away. He is pissed, his anger is rolling up again, burning down his spine. Angry at her for thinking he wasn’t going to help, angry at her for expecting help after her shouts of being able to take care of herself. He closes his eyes for a moment, the truth hitting him hard in the chest. 

If Beth hadn’t saved herself he would’ve been too late to save her. 

Too late. Too little. Not enough. 

He hears her steps behind him, gets whiff of wine in his nostrils and realizes what the glass he heard smashed was. “You done yet?” he snarls.

“No.” 

“Come on,” he snarls, pushing his way through another door, continuing to walk through a damn country club on this suck ass mission of hers.

~

~

He cuts his elbow climbing under a broken trophy case so they can go down yet another hallway. He has to put a grandfather clock that tipped over in order to get out. It dongs as he sets it right and cringes, but it wasn’t too loud. The hallways remain quiet. After that they find a gift shop. She goes right to the clothes, he shakes his head and tries to open the register, sees a bowl full of matches and takes them all. Finds a brown cigarette in a corpse’s and sticks it in his mouth.

Beth comes out from the changing room, wearing a fucking white sweater. He stares at it, all white and pure and stupid. What is she thinking? White at the end of the world, it’ll just dirty up and be useless. He sits down, eyes falling on a corpse of a dead woman. Sure undone, a sign declaring her a rich bitch pinned on her, her upper body stuck on a mannequin. Wonders what kind of assholes were in this place after the turn and immediately sees his brother in his head. 

“Help me take her down.”

“It don’t matter, she’s dead.”

“It does matter.”

It’s something in her eyes that gets to him. Something sad and something he doesn’t understand. Finds himself remembering putting a Cherokee Rose on a grave her dug for Carol. Thinks of all the graves he’s dug for those who do matter and he feels angry again. He’s starting to realize he doesn’t really know at what… Beth, her stupid quest, even this damn moment. But he gets up, grabs a blue tarp he sees and covers the dead stranger for the girl. 

Soon they’re back in the hallway. Just in time for the damn clock to freaking chime. He half wonders if it’s really whatever o’clock on this whatever day when they hear them. Then he sees them, walkers shuffling toward the sound and them. He snarls at her to go one way but there are more and she turns and goes another way, he follows her and they walk through an open room. 

There is a door, they can get through to the other side and close it. Keep away, no worries about being bit but he stops short. The walkers getting closer, suddenly his anger reaches a peak and he realizes he has to way to vent it. To stop the burn in his spine and maybe to keep the feelings he’s trying to shove at bay longer because he can’t… He can’t. 

So he turns and puts an an arrow in the first walker to amble around the corners head. Then he’s shoving another one, using his crossbow to push it way and he lets go of it and grabs a golf club that’s standing around and just starts hitting the next closest walker. 

It’s all anger and rage. No thought, just action. Just slamming the club at the damn thing, some damn old rich white guy who probably never questioned if he deserved a damn thing when he was alive. Maybe he was like the assholes who were in this place, who did that to the woman somewhere upstairs in the damn gift shop. 

He’s on his second golf club now, just beating on some white haired walker wearing an ugly green sweater. His breath is harsh, he’s lost in the moment, just hitting and hitting it like it’s piñata or something. Just wanting to keep hitting it and hitting it. But the club embeds in his skull, but he keeps pushing and suddenly brains swell up into the air and he watches them go. He watches them wave all over Beth, dirtying up that damn white sweater and her jeans.

Guilt washes over him but he stares at her anyway.

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t shout at him. If he’s honest he’s surprised she was standing so close. What she does do is glare at him, he’s getting used to it now, then she turns pulling off the sweater to reveal a bright yellow shirt. It’s almost as bad as the white he thinks, but it’s marred with blood. Because of him. And doesn’t that just fit.


End file.
